


Rotten Palaces

by ko_drabbles



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crimson Peak (2015) Fusion, Attempted Murder, Blood, Disturbing Themes, Ghosts, Gore, Illnesses, Incest, M/M, Murder, Poison, Poisoning, Twincest, Unhealthy Relationships, not for kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_drabbles/pseuds/ko_drabbles
Summary: Kyoya Ootori, throughout his life, knew one thing for definite: Ghosts were real.
Relationships: Hitachiin Hikaru/Hitachiin Kaoru, Hitachiin Hikaru/Suoh Tamaki, Hitachiin Kaoru/Ootori Kyouya, Morinozuka Takashi/Ootori Kyouya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Rotten Palaces

The rain fell in sheets upon both cobblestone and black umbrellas alike, the sky a dark, unseemly grey. It was appropriate, Kyoya supposed, given the occasion; however, the chill practically forced him against his sister's side, hands fisted in her heavy, black coat.

It wasn't all that usual for him to be out in the cold, at eight o'clock sharp in the morning, being a somewhat sickly child and recommended rest at every possible moment. Don't get upset, or excited, or in any highly emotional state be it positive or negative, lest his arrhythmia and generally weak heart take their toll too greatly to recover from. 

However, the most recent death in the family, in an unexpected turn, was not his own. 

He sniffed, forcing himself to not turn away as the coffin was carried through the group of darkly clad, sombre people. His mother contracted black cholera, and the disease seemed to both take its time, and progress quicker than anything so permanent should. She was whisked away and his father had ordered a closed casket. 

No kiss goodbye, nothing to truly solidify that she was gone. He would never speak such a terrible thought aloud but she'd died as she lived – distantly; his life only tangibly connected to hers. It still hurt, to know that he wouldn't see her joyful smile when she did share meals with him. He clung to her as a parent who was not as stern or imposing as his father. He would miss that.

Though Kyoya was sheltered, he wasn’t gullible. He was bright, with a wicked wit for his young age, and didn't suffer fools; just as expected of his father's sons. He knew, as he aged that the distance between them would one day become insurmountable, much further than a mere six feet of soil and grass. This pain would pass soon; he just prayed it would be soon enough.

He had been put to bed early after the wake, tuts of sleep improving his heart or some other rubbish Fuyumi believed to make herself feel more confident that he wouldn't fall into eternal rest as well. They just lost Mother, so she was clinging far tighter than usual, but he didn't mind. He was exhausted after the day's events, and was grateful to retire early. To smile through more condolences would picked the scab off his proverbial wound, over and over. 

A creak sounded, and something cold washed over him, despite the plushness of the blankets. 

"Fuyumi...?" He questioned, limbs uncooperative as he yelled at himself to turn over and see the source of the noise. 

No answer. His breath caught in his throat, chest lodged in a gradually tightening vice, and the seconds that ticked by could be mistaken for hours. _Ridiculous_ , he admonished himself mentally, _absolutely ridiculous reaction_. Still, something screamed in him, begged him to stay still as if he were a rabbit caught in the gaze of a snake. 

Harsh breathing that wasn't his own overtook his senses, just about breaking his trance. Well, cracked it, really; he managed to make himself peer over his shoulder. 

Staggering down the hall was a horrifying apparition, black and shrouded in wisps of smoke, or something of that kind. He buried himself in the blankets, his fragile heart beating so hard that he could feel the arrhythmia himself, and prayed for whatever monstrous vision this was to leave him be. Unlike childish fears of dark nights passed, this demon refused to simply slip back into the ether. 

"My dear child," It whispered to him, a cruel mockery of his mother's tender tone, rasping through its decayed throat as the mattress shifted, a familiar body curling against his back. Sharp, bony fingers carded through his hair, and his mind wove images of her dragging him into death's arms with her, to keep her youngest child as close as could be through eternity and beyond.

It was so close he could smell the decay, and it wheezed a single warning, "When the time comes, beware of the bloody manor."

He couldn't contain it any longer, bolting upright, a scream leaving his throat, desperate and wishing to be saved from the waking nightmare he found himself in.

He didn't stop until Mr Tachibana ran into his room, frantically asking what on earth happened, why he was screaming like the devil himself was in his room. It shook him out of his hysteria, frantically tossing his head to-and-fro in some attempt to see where the thing so like his mother had disappeared to; but it was no use. As quickly as it had materialised, it was gone, leaving only the vestiges of heart-stopping terror in its wake. 

"It..." He panted, turning over the event in his head, trying to avoid the possibility of being locked up in Bedlam for such nonsense as a dead woman returning to deliver a cryptic message, "It must have been a nightmare... Apologies for waking you..."

"Not at all," The man tutted, waving away the apology, "I'd much rather be woken and know that you're alright than sleep right through something... Well... Important."

It was a fair enough statement, even if he had missed the disturbing incident. All was... Well, not fine. Because Kyoya knew a couple of things. Firstly, that this was no nightmare, the stench of rot and the feeling of bone in his hair too vivid to be merely in his own mind. Secondly, well...

Ghosts are real.

**Author's Note:**

> HALLOWEEN TIME IS HERE!
> 
> So, this project is kind of a challenge I set myself, where I'm hoping to update it every day of October. I want to just get this completed to show myself I can actually sit down and write, and if I can do this I can update my other works. 
> 
> Just a warning that the title might change, so keep an eye out for that.


End file.
